


Do No Harm, Take No Shit

by imperator_titus



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Hux gets taken care of, Oneshot, fluffy nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-04 16:55:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15151550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperator_titus/pseuds/imperator_titus
Summary: A ground assault gone wrong, General Hux finds himself in the more than capable hands of a rebel doctor that heals more than just his blaster wound.





	Do No Harm, Take No Shit

**Blaster shots weren’t fun no matter who you were;** Resistance, First Order, Jedi or Sith, they fucking hurt. So Hux couldn’t help screaming and cursing when he was shot on the battlefield. Coming here was a ridiculous idea, he’d said, but Kylo Ren had insisted. Alone and injured, he managed to limp behind a rather large outcropping of rocks and sat down, wincing with the pain. Putting down his blaster, the rounds spent but its weight comforting, he started to peel away the charred and bloody mess of his uniform. Reflexively he reached for the useless pistol when a sound rounding the corner of the rocks caught his attention.

“I’m a doctor, let me help,” a meek voice called to him and when he said nothing the owner of it threw a medical bag into view and two small white hands appeared before the whole woman came out. He kept his blaster pointed at her, but she only gave him a concerned look. “I just want to help, it looked bad.”

Slowly she picked the bag back up and made cautious steps towards him despite the weapon pointed in her direction. Hux didn’t have the energy to say anything and began to feel faint. With some urgency she finished closing in on him and caught him before he fell backwards, avoiding a head injury on top of things. She was incredibly gentle but strong enough to overpower his weak attempts at shoving her away. “Calm down, it’ll be ok, can you talk to me?”

“I won’t talk to Resistance scum.” His voice was weak and far away, it embarrassed him for this rebel to hear him this way; she didn’t seem to mind, however because she gave a gentle laugh as she pushed away his blaster and started work on his wound. Eventually the pain was too much and he gave a small shout at the sting despite his best attempts to remain stoic in the face of an enemy.

“Sorry, I’m out of painkillers. I usually tell people to squeeze my arm.” She continued cleaning the broken skin and his first reaction was to do exactly as she’d said. His brain told him it was to push her away but he let her work while he writhed and gasped in pain. She was finished, for the most part, when she started assessing the effects of his wounds on the rest of his body. Hux tried picking up his blaster but his lack of coordination sent it skittering away down the rocks; two Resistance soldiers stood behind the woman, holding blaster rifles.

“Step aside, Doc.” She kept her grip on the hand she had been testing as she turned her body to her colleagues. “This is a big win for us.”

“I can’t let you do that, he’s my patient.”

“He’s a First Order General!”

“And I’m a doctor, we don’t take sides!”

“You took our side.”

“Fine, then you’ll have to kill me too.” She shielded him with what little she had in terms of body, a fire in her eyes and not a drop of hesitation. The one soldier to talk raised his rifle to fire but was stopped by his partner.

“We don’t have a lot of doctors.”

“He’s the General!”

“If you’re going to do anything either you let him go or he comes to my med-bay at base.” Her voice was hard and unmoving like stone and Hux found himself curious why anyone would defend him in this manner. The soldier sighed and lowered his weapon slightly. “I’ll finish my assessment at base.”

With a rifle to his back and the other soldier in front, the woman helped him to his feet and kept him steady as they walked. The Resistance wasn’t exactly known for its resources so he suffered through walking the whole way. At one point he became faint and felt his knees give way beneath him, but her body broke his fall, leaving a nasty patch of scratches on her face where she hit the ground instead of him. Her sweet concerned face was the last thing he saw.

* * *

He woke up in a dimly lit room and the first thing he’d noticed was the oxygen mask on his face and the feeling of a restraint on his ankle. Of course it was locked so there was little hope of an escape. His stomach growled and he realized how hungry he was; usually he could forget a meal or two, but the injury must’ve sent his body into overdrive in order to heal itself. From the corner movement caught his eye; the doctor that had helped him had been apparently sleeping on a bench which had been pressed up against one of the doors to the room, a blaster in her hand, her coat wadded up into a pillow, and his greatcoat haphazardly draped over her for a blanket. Something he used to make himself seem broader, more intimidating, made her look impossibly small and vulnerable. 

Through tired eyes she looked at him and simply nodded. Getting up she put the coat on a peg, shrugged on her own and put the blaster in one of the large pockets. Kicking the bench slightly out of the way, she opened the door to only stick out her head and call to someone. Hux couldn’t see who she was talking to or hear what they said but she was quickly done and shut the door, leaning her back against it with her arms crossed under her chest. In this situation, without the fear of death or the intense pain in his side, he finally got a look at her. She was so small that he was surprised she had been able to mostly support his weight; he could see the bacta-bandage on her cheek where she’d scraped the ground and another one was around a wrist. She didn’t look at him, but it didn’t seem intentional; her eyes were dark and unfocused, she looked barely able to stand up.

A knock on the door roused her and she opened the door. She grabbed a tray of food with one hand and made to pick something off of it with her fingers to put in her mouth but the man on the other side hissed at her to stop. This visibly filled the woman with anger and she shoved it back through the opening, shoving the door further open; the man flinched back in panic. “Bring a new one and this time don’t be a cock about it because it’ll be mine.”

She grabbed the other tray and slammed the door behind her as hard she could, shaking the frame and filling the room with a loud crack. Angrily she stomped over to the table beside him and placed the tray on it before going back to go through the door. Through the small opening in the door he could see her standing in front of it, the blaster resting in her right hand. He could hear her muttering insults to herself while she tapped her booted foot heavily on the floor. When the man came back she yelled, “learn some fucking decency, assholes!”

Closing the door again and kicking the bench back into place, she sat down on it with a thump. A slew of whispered insults continued out of her mouth in between sips of her coffee, obviously having scorched away any sense of heat because he could barely hold his cup. Hux gave his a hesitant tasting sip and recoiled; she immediately got up and offered to take it from him. “Sorry, they were both mine. I take it you don’t like it sweet, or is it the milk? I’ll make you a new one, how do you take it?”

“Black.” His voice was hoarse and he hadn’t planned on answering, but her responsiveness took him by surprise. With a nod she downed her cup and what remained of his in order to stack them. She took one step towards the door before freezing in place, a hand going to the blaster in her pocket. Hux’s heart stopped and his body hummed with panic, watching her intently as she walked back and placed the blaster beside the tray. Her blue eyes were serious as she looked at him. “I’m the one who stands between you and execution, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t shoot me when I come back.”

Without hearing a response she left, shutting the door behind her. Hux regarded the blaster, wondering what his best course of action would be, but when he picked up the blaster his hand was shaking from exhaustion and lack of energy. Putting it next to him on the bed he brought the tray of food to his lap and started eating. When the doctor came back he could hear yelling thrown her way but she didn’t give it a response, only a deep crease in her brow to prove she was upset about it at all. She placed the dark liquid, this time in a much larger mug, on the table and went back to her spot in front of the door without even giving the blaster a glance. Drinking her own new cup of coffee she propped a datapad up on her crossed leg and scrolled through it while taking small bites of her food.

When he was done with his breakfast he put the empty tray and mug on the table, which prompted her to get up. She moved the table away, her own used dishes stacked on his, and went to wash her hands in the attached washroom, putting on white gloves from a supply cabinet when she was done. He flinched back when she touched him. “Do I have to explain again that I’m a doctor and that I’m trying to help?”

Hux’s muscles stayed tensed while she prodded around his blaster wound and applied a new bandage. With a sigh she finished up, removing her gloves and tapping something out on her pad, looking frustrated. She must’ve caught him staring because the frustration faded when she looked in his eyes. “Sorry, I just… it doesn’t matter. You’ll be fine as long as it doesn’t get infected, it wasn’t that bad.”

She worked a little more on the pad before handing it over to him; it was opened to the galactic news feed. He wasn’t exactly sure why she’d given it to him until he saw her pull an old book from a bag he hadn’t noticed in the corner of the room. She’d expected to be here for quite some time it seemed; she was giving him something to do. Hux read through the galactic feed, his failure thrown in his face on the first bulletin which almost had him tossing it at the wall. He could’ve, he surmised, because what was anyone going to do about it, but he wouldn’t be a petulant child like Ren. Their day locked in the room went by slowly with only the limited-access pad and sleep to pass time. Occasionally a knock would come to the door and she’d stick her head out to talk to whoever it was, usually yelling was involved. When lunch came she didn’t have to tell the person to remake one of the trays; Hux wondered if they’d done whatever it was to his breakfast to both of their meals to get petty revenge on her for shielding him, but nothing seemed particularly off.

At one point she’d unlocked his ankle restraint to let him move around the small space; it surprised him how much effort it took to hold himself up. While he was in the washroom taking a shower she’d changed the bedding and had apparently fallen asleep while resting briefly on the soft surface. Out of some small amount of respect he let her rest and took her place on the bench, flipping through the book she’d been reading. It was written in a language he didn’t recognize, so the pictures had to satisfy his curiosity. When she finally woke up she was very apologetic, scuttling off the bed and looking at the floor as he went to sit on it again.

The next day she’d left him alone for some time, of course leaving the blaster with him, but it seemed she’d threatened her fellow rebels enough to keep them away from him and he was a little grateful. When she came back she looked freshly showered and changed and in her arms was a bundle of plain-looking clothing, minus what appeared to be his uniform boots. Placing it on the supply cabinet she turned to him with a small smile. “I think you’re ready for a longer walk.”

It wasn’t really a question and her leaving the room was a silent request for him to get ready. Lifting his arms above his head sent hot pain through his torso but he managed to get dressed on his own. He was getting the last boot on when there was a rap at the door and then she re-entered the room, a blaster rifle slung across one shoulder. With a nod she bade him to follow her; it was difficult to ignore the glares he received, but they melted away at his small guard’s sharp looks. The sunlight burned his eyes, his hand offering some protection from its glare as they walked in no particular direction. Standing at the edge of an overhang, isolated but still within sight of the base, she fished a box of cigarettes from her coat pocket and lit one. He took one when she offered it to him and they both stood looking at the rather boring scenery in silence. Hux briefly considered pushing her over the edge or the fact that he could easily overpower her and take the rifle, but he didn’t.

* * *

The following few days Hux noticed, but said nothing about, a new trend; in little bits the food for their meals deteriorated in quality until it was probably the lowest it could be while remaining humane. When that failed to deter the doctor from locking herself in his room, the portion started getting smaller until it was clear to him that she combined their meals to make one for him. They continued their daily walks; he found he actually enjoyed the fresh air mixing with his one cigarette and the feeling of the warm sun on his face. They didn’t really talk and one day he realized that he never even knew her name; she most certainly knew his. While she was out of the room he rummaged through her coat hanging next to his, finding a nametag pin stuffed in one of the pockets. Aneirin Reader, MD.

He hurriedly put it back when he heard the door handle move and he stared as she came into the room, a bag of ice pressed against one cheek, water-thinned blood dripping down her face and onto her shirt. Without acknowledging him she went to the supply cabinet and started picking out what she wanted, taking them with her into the washroom to use the mirror. Hux watched as she pulled the ice and makeshift bandage away revealing a nasty and deep cut along her cheekbone. She numbed her face before starting work cleaning and then suturing the wound, then a bacta-bandage was place over-top. It was only when she turned to leave did she notice he had been standing in the doorway, a dark look on his face. “I don’t need your protection.”

“Patients rarely know what they need.” Her voice was strained to contain the tears she undoubtedly wanted to let stream down her face. She tried to squeeze past him, but he took hold of her arm in order to sit her down on the bed. The small act of kindness he was capable of in that moment broke the dam holding her tears and she hid her face in her hands as she cried. Hux took his greatcoat and wrapped it around her shoulders, remembering how it had offered him small comfort sometimes and how she’d used it as a blanket. This was probably the kindest he’d ever been to anyone in his life; he was unsure of what to do to make her stop, usually seeing tears as weakness and he abhorred weakness. His hand almost touched her shoulder when a sharp alarm sounded through the room, causing them both to flinch back.

She grabbed the blaster on the supply cabinet without a word and stood between him and the door. It burst open and she raised the blaster level with the man’s head only to lower it when she recognized him. This didn’t stop a blaster being pointed at Hux. He braced to feel that familiar pain again, but it never came. Instead there was the sound of something falling to the floor, then a second shot, then something else hitting the floor. On the floor the doctor sat in a slowly-growing pool of dark blood, clutching the wound in her abdomen, crying in pain; the resistance soldier dead on the ground by the floor. He rushed, panicked, to help her, but she was trying to shove the blaster into his hands, barely able to say a weak “save yourself.”

“I’m not letting you die.” With her arms weak from bloodloss he helped apply pressure to the oozing wound. It wasn’t long before a familiar figure in black cloak and helmet came stomping into the room followed by a medical officer. Hux could tell that the doctor was barely maintaining consciousness. He hissed at the medical officer. “Get over here!”

“Leave her.” Kylo Ren had controlled him many times using the Force, but this time it hit a blank wall. Anger rose in Hux’s throat at the demand.

“We are taking her!” There was no more argument; she was coming with them back to the finalizer. He tried to keep her talking to him, but the words coming from her mouth were either a different language or mumbled so badly that he couldn’t understand. On the shuttle ride he refused to leave the room she was kept in, making sure she was being properly taken care of. Each time her heart stopped his did too.

Every day he came to the med-bay to check on her; she’d been unconscious for 3 standard days. It took some convincing to have her treated and he failed to convince anyone that she shouldn’t be tied-down to her bed. Hux knew she was small, but she looked even smaller in the hospital bed; pale, gaunt, dark eyes, limp hair. When no one was looking he wiped the sweat from her brow and smoothed her hair as best he could with a gloved hand. His chief medical officer had assessed his own blaster wound, claiming it to be “pretty good work for a rebel.” The general felt good to be back in his uniform and he was slightly upset when his greatcoat was washed and lost the smell of her clinging to it. He once had to remind himself not to cover her with it; she looked so cold under the stark lights and thin sheet. He’d found Ren skulking around her a few times; staring at her sleeping form like it held some secret. The first time the knight simply shoved past him in an angered huff; the second time he’d given him a strange look. “I want to know when she’s awake.”

On the fourth day Hux had been sitting next to her bed when her face started to show signs of waking up. Her blue eyes could barely focus on him through a blur, her throat tried to cure its dryness. He took the glass of water he’d been drinking and offered it to her before he remembered that she would be unable to take it, wrists secured to the bed. Gingerly he sat next to her on the bed and lifted her up enough to swallow properly, helping her tilt the glass back. He sat silently while she looked around, taking in her new surroundings. Through the muscles in her back he could feel her tense-up and a small hiss of pain escape through her teeth. Carefully as he could he lowered her back down and let her remember who he was. “You’re on my ship, The Finalizer.”

“Ah…” She let her eyes wander over him, recalling how he’d looked when she saw him for the first time. “How are you?”

“I should be asking you. I’m quite fine, thanks to you, Doctor Reader.” She nodded her head, which seemed to cause her some discomfort as she winced. “I’ll get someone.”

The chief looked her over, assessing the lingering effects of her wound and unconsciousness before giving her a painkiller. The man had barely left the room before Kylo Ren came lumbering into the room. The two commanders glared at each other. “Get out, General.”

He didn’t want to, but the Force compelled him. Aneirin cried out for him to come back, jerked against her restraints, but he couldn’t break the spell this time. The door to the room shut behind him with a solid thud. Hux wondered what the Sith could want with the rebel doctor; it didn’t matter, he had to go back to the bridge. That’s where he was standing when Ren came to talk to him.

“I commend you, General, for finding that girl.” Hux gave the man an annoyed glare.

“What is that supposed to mean, Ren?”

“I think it is easier to demonstrate than explain.” Hux rolled his eyes, his patience wearing thin.

“Let me guess, it’s about the Force and the Force is mysterious.”

“Precisely. Come, General.” Compelled again, even though he was curious, Hux followed him back to the med-bay. Inside, Aneirin jumped in place at the sight of the two entering the room, her eyes wide and full of panic; Hux’s anger flared as his mind ran wild with what Ren could’ve done to prompt such a response. With a wave of the Sith’s fingers one of the restraints on the doctor’s wrists clicked open.

“Rebel, tell me your name.”

“Fuck you.” Hux’s eyebrows shot up in surprise; it had certainly been a Force command, he could feel the power flow from Ren like a wave.

“Fine, Hux, break her arm.” Without the power to resist his feet took him to stand at her bedside and in his mind he screamed to tear himself away; he didn’t wish to bring her, someone who’d shown him kindness when it was obviously a disadvantage to her, any harm. But when he gripped her arm to snap it between his hands, the compelling Force fled like it was never there. “Much easier to demonstrate, isn’t it, General?”

Hux didn’t respond, he only stared into those scared eyes threatening to tear up. He wanted desperately to have one moment to comfort her, to wrap her in his coat and make sure Ren never saw her again. Hux gripped her hand tightly as he fixed Ren with his most withering gaze. The knight simply laughed and left the room. Her pulse fluttered in his hand and he could see how pale she was, her eyes wide. Using his free hand he ran the back of his knuckles across her healing cheek, bringing her attention back to him. He didn’t know he had this in him. “I’m so sorry.”

Aneirin didn’t respond, only closed her eyes tightly and leaned into his touch. This was so foreign to him, but something about it felt right and comforting. His heart felt like it was in a vice as his mind turned. She didn’t belong here, a rebel physician on a First Order ship, but it was obvious she wouldn’t be allowed to leave. He couldn’t exactly barricade the door and sit at it for the rest of their lives or until the Resistance stormed his ship to take her back. Hux didn’t exactly know what would be in store for them, but for once he was determined to protect someone other than himself. 


End file.
